I feel unusually restless right now. It feels like I am standing at a precipice; that several things are hanging in the balance, and soon, something will tip.
I get my second Moderna shot next week. I am not excited for it. More just terrified of being that weirdo who has a horrible reaction to it, or at the very least winds up sick as a dog and bedridden for days. I know that logically the statistics and the science point to the safety of the vaccines, but my anxiety won’t allow me to relax. That’s not how anxiety works. I was mostly fine with my first shot, although I did feel a little more tired than usual for several days, and had several dips in blood-sugar that had me scrambling to down whatever I could find in the kitchen, lest I pass out. I had a swollen lymph node for a week, etc. So I am not eager to see what fresh Hell awaits me next week.
Theoretically (if I make it out alive) this also means some degree of normalcy is on the horizon, and that I can start going out and seeing people again. Road trips! Bar-hopping! CONFERENCES!!!!!
Despite the promise on the horizon, I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to the real world yet. I give it mixed reviews.
In my restless angst, I feel I want to babble into the void about something, but can’t think of much to write about. Thank God for my weekly rituals. Last night was Movie Night, featuring John Wayne in The Quiet Man. I actually had not seen that one before, despite the fact that my sister and I were raised on John Wayne films (dad is a big fan). We watched so many on a regular basis, each family member had their own favorite. Dad’s favorite is The Searchers. Mom loves McClintock (she prefers Romance over Westerns). My sister liked Big Jake, which is fairly violent, as I recall…But then, she always did like her entertainment a little murder-y.
I always liked Rio Bravo, mostly because it featured the delightful character of “Stumpy,” a codgery old coot who assisted Wayne in his many endeavors. As my readers know, I have a peculiar soft spot in my heart for grumpy old men. I also really enjoyed the finale, in which they smoke out a house full of riff-raff by having a good old-fashioned shootout and lobbing explosives.
Turns out I also have a soft spot for cheesy action flicks and explosions.
At any rate, I believe this is where the string of consciousness psycho-babble ends for now.
It’s wine o’clock.
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